Rise from Sovngarde
by danick2206
Summary: Skordir Ice-Heart is just your regular nord. Or is he? Expect death, dragons and a hell of a lot of draugr, oh yes and a premature trip to Sovngarde. What part will he play in the civil war as he is hiding a terrible backstory. Basically starts off same as skyrim but in later chapters I'll spiral off into my own thing. My first fanfiction, hope you enjoy. Rated T just to be safe
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Out of the frying pan

A faint roar in the distance. I awake slowly, bound and in pain, I'm in a carriage. As my head clears, I look groggily around trying to make out the blurry figures sitting next to me.

My head swimming, I look up struggling to remember. One tall burly Nord in armour sits in front of me, but he too is bound. As are his friends, a slim raven-haired imperial beggar wearing rags who looks rougher than I feel, and another Nord, a nobleman by the looks of him, wearing fine clothes but looking dejected and withdrawn. His mouth is gagged.

The man in armour starts speaking. My head turns so quickly I almost crick my neck.

"Hey you, you're finally awake, you were trying to cross the border, same as us and that thief over there."

I look at him and say, my speech slurred, "What's going on? Where are we, and why can't I remember how I got here?

The man in armour shrugs but before he can speak the thief cuts in and angrily snarls, "Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine before you came along, the empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to hammerfell."

His eyes rest on me and he says softly, "you and me, we shouldn't be here, it's these Stormcloaks the empire wants."

"We're all brothers in bounds now thief!" armour man says with a hint of malice in his tone.

"Shut up back there!" the carriage driver snaps.

"In answer to your question kinsman, I don't know what you did, where we are going. All I know is that they hit your head with a mace," says the armoured man. "Though they definitely didn't take kindly to you killing three of their men."

Now that he mentions it, my head is ringing and I am suddenly aware of the blood dripping from my eyelids, I may be sore but it seems I put up a hell of a fight.

"Does it look bad?" I ask fearing the worst.

"The left side of your face looks like a giant clubbed you," the armoured man laughs.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" asks the horse thief motioning towards the nobleman.

"Watch your tongue, you are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak the true high king!" thunders the armoured man.

"Ulfric, the jarl of windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion, but if they've captured you… Oh Gods, where are they taking us?" cries the thief in his first moment of fear.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," murmurs the armoured man grimly.

I look up ahead as I hear an imperial accent saying, "General Tullius, the headsman is waiting."

Another voice, probably this general Tullius says "good, let's get this over with."

The thief starts to pray to the nine divines, well eight as he doesn't say the name of almighty Talos. I tune out his cowardly pleas to spare his life. In truth I'm as terrified as he is, as soon as he named the gagged man as Ulfric Stormcloak, my blood turned to ice. I agree with Ulfric wholeheartedly but I'm not a stormcloak, I may agree but I wouldn't die for the racist bastard who while I agree on the point that talos should still be worshipped, I don't agree with the way he treats the other races.

The armoured man glares at him and growls, "Look at him, General Tullius the military governor, and it looks like the Thalmor are with him, damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this."

He then sighs and says wistfully, "This is Helgen, I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Ha, it's funny, imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

I see a boy and his parents watching us, I can feel the stares of everyone on me, making me tremble with anticipation of the inevitable end of my life. My Nordic heart tells me to stop being a milk drinker and to die with dignity, so I sit like a king and defiantly glare at anyone looking at us.

"Why are we stopping?" asks the thief meekly.

"Why do you think? End of the line." Answers the armoured man morosely.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts, come on move it!" barks an attractive imperial captain. Really Skordir? You're about to die and you're thinking about how attractive your co-executioner is?

"Come now, shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us." Mutters the armoured man and just like that I stepped out of the frying pan…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Into the fire

And into the fire.

"No we're not rebels!" sobs the thief.

"Face your death with some courage thief," spits the armoured man.

"You've got to tell them, we weren't with you, this is a mistake."

"Step forward when we call your name, one at a time!" yells the hot captain (not now Skordir!)

"Hmph, Empire loves their damned lists," the armoured man sneers.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, jarl of windhelm," says an auburn imperial, and it might be just me but he is looking at the armoured man with a hint of sadness on his face. I look over at the armoured man to see if there was any reaction but just then, his name is called out.

"Ralof of Riverwood" whispers the imperial man and before Ralof turns away I think I spot tears in his eyes.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," says the red haired imperial.

"No wait, I'm not a rebel, you can't do this!" he half-sobs

The fool is running like his feet are on fire, if this were a different setting, I would be impressed.

"You're not gonna kill me!" he pants.

"ARCHERS!" bellows the attractive captain who right now with her wild eyes, furious glare and massive sword seems just about as attractive as a frostbite spider.

Lokir almost makes it but then, a razor sharp steel arrow slices through his back. The look on his face before he dies almost comical, he died with a smile on his face thinking that he had made it. What an inspiration to the children on how to be a spineless milk drinker running for the hills with his tail between his legs.

"Anyone else feel like running?" asks the not-so attractive captain with her sword inches from my throat.

"Wait, you there, step forward," asks the kind imperial man, "who are you?"

"My name is Skordir ice-heart and if I am to die today then I am going to say some last words."

"Like most Nords I'm not a talker, I admit that I am scared right now but my fear is being overcome by my heart. Apparently I killed three of your men, dressed in rags with no weapon and I would do it again, because now I die with the intention of entering Sovngarde drinking, fighting and cursing your names for the rest of eternity."

"And if I ever meet Talos, I will tell him of how sons and daughters of Skyrim have sold him out to their elven overlords. So I may die but it is you who are eternally damned."

At the end of my speech the rest of the captured prisoners howl like wolves, cheering me and chanting "_Ice-Heart, Ice-Heart, Ice-Heart."_

The captain's eyes were popping with rage and even the great Ulfric Stormcloak smiles at me warmly though it's hard to see under his gag.

"You picked a bad time to come home kinsman," says the imperial

"Follow the captain prisoner," says the kindly imperial with pity in his eyes.

I follow her and General Tullius started laying the blame on Ulfric.

"Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

A noise like a roar but far off, but where had I heard that noise before?

"What was that?" gasps a soldier.

"It's nothing," says General Tullius, I may not like him too much right now but he is ever the professional, I'll give him that.

"Yes General Tullius," says the captain, "give them their last rights."

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight divines upon you- "a priest of the divines starts to speak but doesn't get far.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" exclaims a blood-haired stormcloak.

"As you wish!" snaps the flustered priest.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" he roars. "My ancestors are smiling at me today imperials, can you say the same?"

I don't want to look but I do, when the axe comes down on his neck the block turns redder than the man's hair was.

"You imperial bastards!" shrieks a stormcloak maiden.

"Justice!" shouts Vilod.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" sneers his wife, Ingrid.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof mutters tears flowing openly now.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!" the captain bellows.

"My name is Skordir," I snap at her, "but you don't care, just get on with it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Scales from the sky

I stride cockily towards the block. Funny how some distance can make everything seem small. Everything except that block. As I walk towards it, it seems to stay the same size and I imagine my neck on it with the huge musclebound headsman bringing his axe screaming down to meet my neck, and just like that, my life would be over.

As I get closer to the block time seems to slow. I am walking straight to my death, and focusing on that small fact scares me more than anything ever could.

I fall to my knees silently and offer up a quick prayer to the divines. But just then, right as the headsman is raising his axe, I hear the roar again and feel the ground begin to shake. Then I spot it.

Roaring fit to burst my ears, a winged, obsidian reptile flying straight towards us.

A dragon, I always believed the legends but, the last dragon was killed of centuries ago by my ancestor Sigrid the cunning, a member of the blades. Ysmir's beard he's an ugly one. Great curved horns, black stony spines on his back. The power given off by this thing is immense.

It rests on the watchtower and roars, no, not roars, it _shouts_. The headsman is blasted backwards by the force and dies, then the thing of nightmares shouts again and I can feel myself falling to the ground. However after I fall, Ralof bellows "Hey you, kinsman, come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!"

I don't need telling twice. I jump to my feet faster than an arrow in flight and sprint with ralof to the watchtower. Inside are Ralof, some wounded soldiers and Ulfric himself.

"Jarl Ulfric, what was that thing, could the legends be true?" asks a trembling Ralof, I feel glad to know I'm not the only one pissing myself with fear.

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric says calmly but he can't hide the fear in his eyes.

I hear a crashing sound and then Ulfric is saying, "We need to move now."

"Up through the tower, let's go" Ralof cries.

"We just need to clear some of the-," a stormcloak begins but is cut short as the dragon smashes it's head through the wall and roars "Yol Toor Shul!"

A blast of vicious dragonfire burns the air around us and I just have enough time to dive down the stairs before I'm burnt to a crisp.

The poor man is dead, toasted beyond recognition but the living need not worry for the dead but for the living themselves.

"You see the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going," Ralof commands.

"Are you bloody simple man, if I jump through there I'll break my leg." I scream at him, why was he so clueless?

"Then stay and burn," he laughs cruelly then runs away.

Seeing no other option I jump down and my left leg snaps, the bone sticking out of my torn flesh. The roar that comes from my mouth almost snaps my vocal cords and even rivalled the dragon's shout. My voice had always been stronger and louder than anyone else's I had ever met, but this time was different. I thought I felt the air ripple but then It died and I just started to worry about my leg again.

I refuse to fall, snarling to myself that if I fall, I die. I don't fall. Adrenaline keeps me going when my leg won't

I run outside the burnt inn and see a child standing in the middle of the road right where the dragon is going to land.

With a curse, I hobble over to him and pull him away but not before the dragon lands, shoots its fire at me and burns my clothes and much of the flesh of my back.

I scream blue murder but keep going. The nice imperial is there protecting an old man, but right now I don't think of him as a nice man but as one of the men responsible for my being here. For my leg, my back, my head, and in that moment every bit of sympathy and human compassion is gone and replaced by cold, hard hate.

"Still alive prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to stay that way."

"YOU COWARDLY MILK DRINKER!" I shriek, throwing myself at him, "YOU TRY TO KILL ME? WELL HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS THEN!

I use my bound hands as a club and hit him in the stomach while he is still shocked. While he is doubled over, I throw him in the path of the roaring dragon. When he straightens up, the dragon roars "IIS SLEN NUUS!" and encases him in ice. The dragon starts forward on the nice imperial while I watch with relish and stomps the nice imperial.

Ice shatters everywhere while blood explodes like a geyser. The only recognisable piece of him left is a severely bloodied, mangled leg.

I laugh and think, "A leg for a leg."

I find Ralof and when he asks what happened I shake my head and show him the leg I carried around since the imperial's little accident.

Ralof's face blanches and he throws up while I hoot and shriek with laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Suddenly came to me that I didn't give a description of the story (facepalm) so I'll do that after this chapter but I'm really excited where this is going and have tons of ideas, might reveal a little/lot of Skordir's backstory. Anyway hope you enjoy and please give me any helpful criticism. Thanks.**

Chapter 4

Realisation

As soon as Ralof got over his shock at seeing the imperial man's mangled leg and when we were indoors I told him who it belonged to, he fell to his knees and started crying. In between gasps of breath and sobbing, he would occasionally mutter, "oh Gods Hadvar, why?" I start to feel sorry for this man who has done me no harm but then he turns to me with a look of pure hate and rage on his face, similar to mine before I killed Hadvar.

"Why? Why are you carrying this with you? He asked, his voice shaking with the effort of not cleaving my head open with his axe.

I have always been taught to tell the truth but was never good at that, but I thought what the hell, and told him, "This bastard belonged to the group that brought me here. You want to know why I killed him. I remembered why I was attacked and brought here. I was out hunting with my son and daughter and got robbed by bandits, I had only just came to Skyrim a few weeks before and I was adjusting to the harshness of this barren place. The bandits took my armour and weapons and took my daughter as a prize. Made me watch while they took her, one bandit after another. After maybe a week with the bandits, my daughter Ajofla killed the second in command after he was done with her. She ran while I screamed at her to stop. A lucky shot took her from behind right in her leg, she screamed but hobbled on, and then she turned around to see how far she was from that damned archer. He got off an arrow which pierced her eye."

"What does this have to do with the Imperials?" asks Ralof.

"Shut your mouth and let me finish." I snarled. "What I didn't tell you was that, my son, Fenrik, wasn't caught and had been nearby for the week and had seen everything that happened. My son is just shy of being a man so naturally I taught him the ways of Nordic battle. Fenrik always was a good archer. His first arrow caught the man holding me in the knee, crippling him, I elbowed him in the face, broke his neck and helped Fenrik kill the rest. By the end there were only 3 left of the original 12. Then those damned Imperials showed up talking about you bloody Stormcloaks and some ambush near a place called Darkwater crossing which they would take part in later on. The bandits screamed for help and told the imperials that we were the bandits and had killed them all. Dressed like we were, they believed them. Before we could protest our innocence, a burly legate came up and caved in my son's head like a walnut."

Ralof stood there open-mouthed listening to my tale.

I did the only thing I could, I killed the legate in cold fury with a fallen bandits sword as the remaining bandits fled for the hills. Then I ran like a coward, praying for Talos to have mercy on me for my cowardice. I didn't get far. About 3 hours later they all showed up with you lot. Half went away for the ambush while half came after me. I killed three of their men before that craven clubbed me from behind with a mace. In essence I was sentenced to death for my children's deaths."

Ralof looks at me uncertainly as I sink to the floor and begin to weep uncontrollably.

"From this day I vow on my life that I will stop this civil war and cut down every single Imperial soldier I can find and when I find General Tullius, believe me, his death will be slow. The same goes for the Thalmor and any other damned faction that gets in my way." I hiss my voice wracked with emotion.

"Then join us kinsman, join the Stormcloaks!" Ralof almost shouts, "You don't have to do this yourself."

"Thanks for the offer but I think it's time that a new player entered this game." I smile grimly. "You Stormcloaks aren't the only ones allowed to have fun. Tell me, what do you think about the name, _the Ice-Hearts?"_

**Oh shnap! Will Skordir be a new contender in the civil war and will any support him, that's for me to know and for you to find out (that is if you decide to stick around for the later chapters…) Hope you enjoyed that ****_obviously original_**** chapter and Skordir's backstory. Stay tuned folks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 now, damn it's so sad that I'm creating and uploading about two chapters a day now. I must have no social life****L****. But anyway, for all you elder scroll lovers it's time for another chapter of the gripping fanfiction, Rise from Sovngarde. P.S. Little secret coming up. Enjoy.**

Chapter 5

A Change is at hand

Searching in silence for supplies with Ralof occasionally strongly hinting that I should join the stormcloaks but I ignore that. I jump with a start when I see the body. It's one from the other carriage dressed in stormcloak armour. I can't believe that we didn't notice him before, but I guess I was so deep in my sob story that I didn't notice that we were even inside.

"Gunjar!" Ralof gasps when I alert him. He goes over to check the dead Gunjar who I guess was close to Ralof as he checks for signs of life, then shakes his head sadly and says, "we'll meet again in Sovngarde brother." What he just said reminds me of Hadvar and I ask about him.

"Did you have any connection to Hadvar?" I ask quietly, I take no pleasure in Ralof's suffering. He's been through a lot and I hold no ill will to the Stormcloaks except for the fact that they were the reason that the imperials were looking for Ajofla, Fenrik and I.

"He was from the same village as me." He croaks, "He was my best friend growing up and I can't forgive you for acting so savagely."

"Well, I'm not going to apologise," I say softly, "But I know what you're going through so let's just move on and get the hell out of this keep."

We move on quietly, then we hear people running and Ralof hisses, "It's the imperials, hide!"

No way in hell am I going to hide from these spineless fops so instead I say, "Don't kill me when it happens." Knowing that I'm putting everyone, especially me.

"What do you mean?" asks Ralof. He's not sure whether to trust me or not. Smart man.

"Believe me," I whisper, "If you piss me off while I'm not myself, I'll rip your damn head off and gorge on your blood before you can blink."

He stares at me, disgusted and shocked. Then he shrugs and says, "fair enough."

I know what I'm risking here but right now, I don't have anything to lose and besides, there are imperials to kill.

I break down the mental barriers in my mind which I've been trying to build for years. It sniffs, wondering if this is a trap, eventually when I tell it to make its bloody mind up and stay or go, it realises this is real, howls with joy and rises to the fore.

As usual the pain hits quick and hits sharp. I can feel my skin splitting apart while my bones snap and twist elongating and strengthening. I used to love this form and wondered how I survived without it but after all I've done, I use it only when necessary. My jaw dislocates and hangs down below my neck as my spine twists and deforms. I can feel the itch of the thick black fur rising from my skin. My fingernails elongate as my fingers curl inwards. Claws develop and grow, Yellowing fangs having met the throat of many an enemy.

I finish the transformation and glare down at the imperials below me, a two and a half metre tall, fanged, hairy beast. The hot captain and an underling. I jump straight at the captain eager for revenge and my claws clasp her face and squeeze…

Her head pops like a fresh watermelon. She shakes then goes limp. The underling takes one look at me, drops his weapon, screams and runs but not before Ralof can throw his iron war axe at the man's back, tomahawk style. The man stiffens, tries to let out a last scream then falls to his knees and onto his face.

I shackle the wolf with great difficulty and it retreats with a whimper. The pain of transforming back is even sorer but the moment was worth it, seeing the captain's eyes start to tear as she slowly, painfully came to realise that her death was at hand. (My _hands _anyway.)

I finish transforming and I'm back to normal except for my red hair having turned black and growing a great amount of facial hair which always happens.

"I hope I didn't scare you," I murmur, glancing over at Ralof, the sight bringing tears of mirth to my eyes.

Ralof, the big, butch Nord is sitting in the corner of the room, terror etched on his face while he nearly cacks himself with fear.

**So Skordirs a werewolf… Yeah. Bet you didn't see that one coming. Find out more, next time on Skyrim special. Stay classy San diego.**


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